


everybody wants to rule the world

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Consensual Sex, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Drugged Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Engagement, English Major Timothy Lawrence, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Everyone Has Issues, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, Friends With Benefits, Good Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Handsome Jack Needs a Hug, Handsome Jack is a Jakobs, M/M, Programmer Handsome Jack, Single Parent Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Slow Burn, Sort Of, Timothy Lawrence Needs A Hug, Timothy Lawrence has a Drug Addiction, but he consents and he still would have if he was sober
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: Timothy Lawrence ran off to college as soon as he could, intent on getting away from his family and actuallydoingsomething with his life... But now he has to deal with drug addictions, people mistaking him for some rich prick, andliterally starving.He’s really not sure how to deal with this… Except yeah, he is. This has been his whole life, minus the whole “being mistaken for a rich prick” part.Jack is trying to set up a good life while doing something he loves after leaving home, but college is a different (and far more frustrating) monster than high school, and he keeps being mistaken for someone named Tim…? Eh, maybe college won’t be that bad. Maybe he’ll even end up with a friend out of the deal!
Relationships: Angel & Handsome Jack & Timothy Lawrence, Angel & Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Angel & Timothy Lawrence, Athena & Handsome Jack & Wilhelm, Handsome Jack & Timothy Lawrence, Handsome Jack/Timothy Lawrence, Timothy Lawrence & Mad Moxxi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Welcome to your life

Timothy Lawrence was what some would call a typical college kid.

He came from a not-great and not particularly well-off family, had trouble affording the therapy he needed and his Xanax prescription that he needed just as much if not more than the therapy itself, was hooked on several drugs he shouldn’t be doing, and had to feed both his drug addiction and his actual stomach by hoping that another student would be nice enough to share because all of his available money went to dorm rent and Xanax. And this was all only four months into his first semester.

Hey, though, go big or go home, right? And he sure as hell wasn’t going home.

However, he was _also_ the guy who got frequently mixed up by teachers and other students with some rich prick he’d never met who _also_ attended classes here. Over and over he was told he looked and sounded just like “Jack”, and every time he was told that, he hoped more and more that he’d never have the displeasure of meeting the dude. Because he seemed like a _douchebag._ And he was _rich,_ which already made Tim wary of him, as a guy who grew up in a shitty neighborhood with little to no money to speak of.

Listen, when you were getting through college solely on the one writing scholarship he could get, a PELL grant, and two whole loans he was already probably not going to be able to pay off unless he got a _really_ good job, you learn to have a certain disdain for people who come in on their parents’ dime who face _none of the same problems you do._

Thankfully, Tim was dual-majoring in English and Psychology and Jack was apparently doing some kind of computer-related deal, so the chances of them running into each other outside of required general education classes was little to none. He would just have to pray and pray hard that he didn’t end up in, like, College Algebra with the guy next semester.

Rushing toward his next class, he wished he could just focus on the whole ‘getting to class’ aspect, but the brisk power-walk across campus really left him little to do but let his mind wander. Especially given that he was floating down off a dose of Miss H, currently, and he wasn’t particularly worried about being late. He had to do the same brisk power-walk across campus at nine AM every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, so it was just routine. He knew he would make it to class. He was usually early anyway.

And, as his terrible luck should have it, as he started wandering down _that_ train of thought about nine feet from the front doors of the building he was headed to, he bumped shoulders with someone and knocked their phone right out of their hands.

“Ah, shit,” He cursed, turning.

“Fuck,” Cursed the other, kneeling to pick it up.

“Sorry,” Tim said, “Fuck, are you― Is your phone okay?”

As he was asking, it processed in his brain that the person he was looking at had the same hair color as he did. A little weird, but nothing _too_ surprising. There was a surplus of brunettes at the college… And generally, out in the world. But it was the same _shade_ of brown, which was _kind_ of surprising. Tim didn’t see many people with the same _shade_ of brown he had.

“Yeah, yeah,” They said, dusting the screen off. The case seemed undamaged and the screen did as well, so at least there was that, “Watch where you’re goin’ next time, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah. Right.” Tim stepped back as they straightened up and turned to him.

And, goddammit, he was pretty sure that this was Jack.

Same face shape, generally. Same height, same broad shoulders. Same hair color. Similar enough voice, because apparently even _that_ was a similarity between them.

And, on squinting a little, he realized they even had the same eyes.

Right eye blue, left eye green.

“Uh,” Tim blinked, and Jack looked a little surprised too.

“... You must be Tim,” Jack finally said, grinning as he shoved his phone into his pocket and then stuck his hand out, “Name’s Jack.”

Nice to know he’d been right.

“I thought you might be,” Tim said, nowhere near as thrilled about the ordeal as Jack seemed to be. Nevertheless he took the guy’s hand and shook it since there was no use in being rude to the local rich guy. “Guess I’m not the only one who gets told that we look alike.”

“Not at all, pumpkin, not at _all.”_ Jack snorted, and Tim resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose at the pet name. _Don’t be rude to the rich guy, don’t be rude to the rich guy,_ “But they really weren’t freakin’ kidding, huh? Same eyes and everything!”

“Not everything,” Tim couldn’t resist saying, nose wrinkling at last, but he swiftly tried to smooth it back out, “Uh, listen, nice meeting you or whatever but I need to get to class.”

And before Jack could say anything else to him, Tim was turning on his heel and half-jogging up into the building just to get away from him. And thankfully Jack didn’t follow him.

Tim breathed a sigh of relief, prayed he never had to talk to him again, and continued into his class.

Now, Tim did not have anything in _particular_ against Jack, and he wanted to make that clear. Jack had done nothing to him, probably never would. But he _was_ rumored to be a rich kid, and he _seemed_ to be something of a bastard based on the sorts of things people said to Tim when they thought he was him. And, of course, there was always the fact that Tim was pretty much on drugs _all the time_ and rich college kids were either the _worst_ about being anti-drugs or they tried to relate to you because they were on drugs too. Not a conversation he was looking forward to…

And, you know, when he _wasn’t_ on drugs he was the world’s most nervous and awkward piece of shit, especially since he hadn’t been able to afford his Xanax refill this month since he’d had to schedule an appointment in order to get the prescription renewed… Thankfully hadn’t had to get any bloodwork done this time, since he wouldn’t have been able to afford that _either._

Anyway.

He just wasn’t thrilled at the idea of getting to know Jack, was all he was saying, and it wasn’t specifically because of anything Jack had done or might do. It was just…

Well, if he was honest, it was mostly a lot of paranoia and the fact that he’d been raised in a neighborhood that hated rich people almost as much as they hated the cops.

… Why was he thinking about this, again?

He couldn't’ remember why he’d thought it was important.

Shaking the thoughts off with a mild shrug, he sank into his usual seat for this class and waited for everyone else to show up.

Settling onto Moxxi’s couch with her, Tim happily dug into the Chinese she’d ordered, and seeing as she was a good friend who knew his situation entirely too well she said absolutely nothing about the amount of gusto he ate with. She just continued on the rant she was on, shoving a bite of chow mein into her mouth and only pausing in her rant long enough to chew and swallow.

“Good _lawrd,”_ She spat, cheeks red in her annoyance, “Man just _will not_ leave me alone! I done told that no good piece a’ shit he weren’t seein’ me _or_ Scooter ‘n Ellie ever again and what does he do? He comes t’ my _apartment,_ Timtam! The fuckin’ _nerve!”_

“I’d say the guy can’t take a hint, but even that’s putting it too mildly.”

Moxxi nodded furiously, shoving another bite of food into her mouth.

And Tim knew she was 100% _actually_ as furious as she seemed to be, because she had slipped full-on into the thick southern drawl that she usually did her best to mask. Tim wasn’t one to psychoanalyze just yet, but he knew there was something with that that was important.

“D’I smell Chinese, ma?” Came little Ellie’s voice, suddenly, head popping out of her bedroom.

Ellie was about six years old, a product of Moxxi’s very early marriage to Jimbo Hodunk back in high school. Her little brother, Scooter, was only about three and currently situated quite happily in a playpen off in the corner with his toy cars.

“You sure do, sugar,” Moxxi’s demeanor changed almost instantly, face going softer and lips quirking up in a smile, “I’ll get you a plate, alright?”

Ellie smiled, chubby little cheeks pushing up into dimples, “Ok, ma!”

She wandered on into the kitchen with Moxxi, sitting patiently at the table while Moxxi doled out a helping of food for her. It was a little early for dinner, in general, hence why Moxxi hadn’t already called Ellie for dinner yet, but when Moxxi was mad she ate Chinese and it didn’t matter what time it was.

Jimbo showing up wasn’t great, but it was a good thing Moxxi had been in class with little Scooter when it had happened―if she’d been here when he showed up, and either Ellie or Scooter had been home with her, it was safe to say _someone_ would have called the cops… And Moxxi still would have been beating Jimbo’s ass when they showed up. Which wasn’t a great example to be setting for her kids.

As it was, she’d learned from a neighbor that “some hick” had been outside her apartment door yelling and beating on the door and hadn’t left until the neighbor had gotten their phone out to call the cops.

“Not to derail,” Tim joked, when Moxxi came to sit back down after _also_ making Scooter a plate of food (which consisted primarily of very small pieces of chicken) and getting him set up so he could eat it peacefully, “But you’ll never guess who I ran into today.”

“Oh?” Moxxi sat, picking up her box of takeout and her chopsticks with a primly arched eyebrow―clearly glad for the distractions of her children and now this, if he knew her.

“The guy folks keep mistaking me for. Jack.” Tim snorted, “Accidentally knocked his pricey-ass phone right out of his hands. Thank God it didn’t break or I’d be even more screwed than I already am.”

“No shit?” Moxxi’s brows shot higher, “Does he look as much like you as they say, sugar?”

“Same hair and eyes, at least,” Tim granted, “Face shape and height too, I guess, and his voice sounded similar?”

“You sure you don’t have a secret twin, Lawrence?” She teased.

“If it turns out that my mom gave up my twin to a rich family, I’m going back home specifically to kick her ass.” He arched a brow, “And if it turns out my dad is rich and only wanted one of the kids, I’m finding him to kick _his_ ass. And then mom’s, too, for not marrying _him_ instead of _Louis.”_

Moxxi snorted into her takeout box, but overall her mood seemed to have improved significantly, so Tim counted that as a win.

“What’s he like?” She finally asked, “Or did you not stick around long enough to find out?”

Tim found himself wrinkling his nose, “Well, he called me ‘pumpkin’ to my face within moments of meeting me and seemed kind of excited about the whole ‘we’re practically identical’ thing, but no, I didn’t stick around long enough to really get a good feel of him. I’m hoping I never talk to him again.”

“Doesn’t mean much coming from you,” She pointed out, not unkindly, strangely ignoring the ‘pumpkin’ bit when she’d usually have teased him, “Since I think I’m about the only person you don’t have that sentiment about when you’re sober or coming down from a high. Speaking of…”

Tim winced, a little.

She sighed.

“I’ve only done a dose of Miss H this week?” He told her, a little sheepishly, “I haven’t even really been looking for someone to give me anything. I promise.”

“I believe you, sugar,” She sighed again, “I just wish you hadn’t ever started… I don’t want you ending up like your mom.”

He winced again, “I don’t want to end up like mom either,” He said, “... But stress is a lot easier to deal with when you’re too busy being high to think about it.”

She nodded her understanding, and he knew she wasn’t just pretending to get it―it had taken her until last year to _fully_ kick her own addiction, and if not for her kids and trying to get away from Jimbo (who had encouraged the addiction) she probably wouldn’t have tried. She was always way more hooked than Tim, because she’d started in on heroin at, oh… _Thirteen?_ Ish?

Tim hadn’t started until he was almost out of high school.

Still, she was the only one in the world who only wanted him to quit for the sake of his own health and quality of life and not… A prejudice against drugs or some misguided attempt to make him a “better person”. Moxxi… Well, Moxxi knew his mom, and his mom was kind of… Very well known for her own drug addictions and the fact that she’d literally had more children than she could keep track of the fathers for. Which didn’t make her a bad person, necessarily, but she wasn’t healthy and no matter how many of her kids tried to get her to quit, she never even tried and shrugged it all off.

Frankly, Tim was surprised she hadn’t OD’d yet, but considering how long she’d been on drugs he guessed she knew what she could handle.

But, still. He was trying to at least slow down, maybe not stop entirely, so that he wouldn’t end up so hooked he didn’t have any desire to stop _ever._ And so he wouldn’t end up, well… With more guys and gals after him than he could ever deal with and at least three kids.

He figured he’d like, wean himself off of it all nearer the end of his degree. He didn’t know if he’d survive without drugs _or_ his Xanax for the rest of his college career, and since drugs were generally _free_ if he was pathetic enough…

“You might want to give Jack a try,” Moxxi finally said, and her tone was mildly joking, “If he’s rich, he might be _friendly_ too.”

“I’m not screwing the rich guy who looks like me for his money, Mox.”

“Then don’t screw him, just be nice enough he starts tossing it at you. You’re cute enough it’d work.”

“Mox…”

She grinned.

He rolled his eyes, feeling his lips quirk up regardless.

They ate their Chinese in peace, more or less, and Moxxi only went back to the subject of her ex-husband _once_ the whole time. Tim would call that a win.

Tim stumbled into his apartment at nearly four in the morning, dropping his jacket gracelessly onto the the floor next to the front door and not bothering to turn on any lights as he fell over himself on the way to his bed. Tonight had been a rough one―thankfully he knew he’d wake up with his alarm.

He faceplanted into his bare mattress, kicking his shoes off right there with half of his legs not even on the bed. He groped blindly for his sheet, tugging it over him and he wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he knew he woke up to his alarm two hours later significantly less high than he had been. Right. Time to start getting ready.

* * *

Jack had been hearing from several people that he resembled some quiet dude who was _probably_ an English major or some shit ever since he got here. Even his Composition I professor had initially mistaken him for the guy―Timothy, his name was. But he was getting to the point now where people could tell them apart… But he definitely still had several people mistake him for Tim on a day to day basis.

Mostly other English majors, honestly.

Apparently Tim was good with words and they wanted his help with their assignments.

Whatever, point was, Jack was kind of fascinated by the idea that there was someone around here that looked enough like him that they got genuinely mistaken for each other. Like, sure, there were plenty of blue-eyed brunettes around here, but there had to be a much bigger resemblance for people to, like, actually think he was Tim.

Made him wonder what the guy was like.

He’d stayed after his Computer Applications class today to talk to the instructor for a while, since he didn’t have another class until noon and had time to burn _anyway,_ as did the instructor. It was a riveting conversation―as much as a conversation about coding could be riveting, at least. But ultimately he had to start getting ready for his next class and Jack figured he could run to the campus cafe and waste a couple of hours while he ate one of those _awesome_ parfaits they made every morning, so he’d headed out.

He’d scarcely gotten down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, staring down at his phone, before someone had knocked shoulders with him.

He watched, more caught off-guard than anything (and not particularly worried for the phone, since it had a good case and a screen protector), as his phone jolted out of his hand and clattered noisily to the ground.

“Ah, shit,” Said whoever had run into him―they sounded… An awful lot like him.

“Fuck,” He chimed, kneeling to pick up the device.

Again, he wasn’t particularly worried, but he still hated dropping it.

“Sorry,” The stranger said, “Fuck, are you― Is your phone okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack said, dusting the screen off. No damage to the screen protector or case, as he’d expected, “Watch where you’re goin’ next time, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah. Right.”

Jack straighted up, dusting his knees off and turning toward the stranger. He found himself blinking in surprise right back at them―was this Tim? He got the feeling this was Tim. Like, he had the same shade of brown hair as Jack did, he was about his size, his voice was similar, and he seemed to have blue eyes...

“Uh,”

Oh, no, he had _one_ blue eye.

The other was green.

… Did Jack have a twin his family never told him about? It wouldn’t be the first thing they kept from him, but… Hm.

“... You must be Tim,” He finally said, finding himself grinning as he shoved his phone into his pocket and stuck his hand out for Tim to shake, “Name’s Jack.”

The man he was assuming was Tim made a face, vaguely. It wasn’t a particularly flattering one, but it smoothed out quickly. Jack wasn’t exactly surprised―he was… Kind of an asshole sometimes, and he knew he had a reputation. Tim had probably heard as much about him as he had about Tim, so making a face was… Kind of expected.

Didn’t mean Jack wasn’t still sort of excited to meet him.

“I thought you might be. Guess I’m not the only one who gets told that we look alike.”

And Tim didn’t sound _near_ as excited as Jack was, which, again, Jack was sort of expecting. But he did take his hand and shake it before drawing back.

“Not at all, pumpkin, not at _all.”_ Jack snorted, watching Tim’s eye twitch and sort of internally wincing as he soldiered on, “But they really weren’t freakin’ kidding, huh? Same eyes and everything!”

“Not everything,” Tim’s voice came out flat, nose wrinkling before he managed, apparently through a good deal of effort, to smooth it back out. He threw a look over his shoulder at the building behind him and carried on with, “Uh, listen, nice meeting you or whatever but I need to get to class.”

He promptly turned and left, and Jack stood there blinking for a moment.

Man, he did _not_ have a good reputation among his fellows, huh?

Damn.

Oh, well. He’d get another chance, eventually.

Like, he and Tim went to the same college. There was no way he wouldn’t eventually run into him again.

So he shook it off and headed to the cafe.

“Is it weird to think a guy who looks enough like me to be like, my twin, is cute?” Jack asked, squinting down at his phone.

Wilhelm did not reply in words, merely snorting.

“That depends on what _kind_ of cute, Jack.” Athena informed him, and when he glanced up she was boredly squinting down at her own phone, “But knowing your narcissistic ass…”

“What can I say,” Jack felt himself flush, even if only a little bit, “I’m hot. Everyone agrees. And, ‘Thena, he’s got _freckles._ I _never_ get freckles. He’s got the milky way on the fuckin’ bridge of his nose and his cheeks.”

“We _are_ still talking about the _English major_ you keep getting mistaken for?” Athena lifted her gaze long enough to lift a brow, looking unimpressed, “And you _do_ realize that if he _is_ related to you those feelings are unacceptable?”

“Yes, we’re still talking about Tim, and _yes,_ I know.” Jack rolled his eyes, “I just asked if it was _weird,_ Athena, not if it was legal.”

Athena leveled him with that same unimpressed look, said, “You have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair,” and promptly returned to squinting at her phone.

Jack snorted, leaning back in his seat.

Whatever, it wasn’t like it mattered. He was _pretty_ sure his mom had only had one kid―woulda dumped both of them with his grandma if she had twins. Which just meant he was basically fantasizing about kissing himself, except with freckles. Really cute freckles.

People did that, right? Like, all jokes about kissing the mirror aside, people who actually liked their appearance thought about banging themselves sometimes?

Not that he figured Tim was anything like him aside from looking like him.

C’mon, the guy was an _English major._ Jack wouldn’t be caught _dead_ writing essays for the rest of his life. Much preferred to write code, do programming. He _liked_ doing shit like that. And apparently Tim liked writing essays, or a least was good enough at it that he was willing to do it for the rest of his life.

Which, sure, made him sound _pretty_ boring, but Jack was trying to be a _programmer_ so he realized he didn’t have a whole lot of room to talk.

The two most frustrating and (from an outside perspective) boring jobs _ever―_ writing essays and writing code.

He really did think they could get along, if he could just get Tim to talk to him for more than three seconds.

Eh, maybe if he ran into him outside of class time. Like, after classes ended for the day.

Or at a party. Jack went to plenty of those. Tim would probably go to one eventually. Wasn’t college without going to at least one shitty party in somebody’s shitty dorm room.

Jack stepped quietly into his apartment, yawning as he tossed his jacket onto the designated coat chair next to the door. He toed his shoes off, stretched, and meandered into the kitchen to grab himself some dinner. He had some furniture that was supposed to be coming in tomorrow afternoon, so at least the place would look a little less barren than it did right now after he dealt with it…

Not that he was looking forward to getting it all set up.

And, sure, he could hire somebody to do it, but there was something fun (if exhausting) about doing it himself. Like, while he was doing it he sort of actually felt like a regular person. Which was cool.

Having all that money didn’t mean he had to use it.

… Okay, so he was still using a lot of it, and he wasn’t planning on dialling it back. It was just that he liked doing some of this himself. Like cooking. And putting together furniture.

After eating, he threw a look at the clock. Almost eleven.

He didn’t usually go to bed this early, but he _did_ have a long day tomorrow.

He headed to his bedroom and changed into sleep pants before flopping into bed and pulling his comforter over him. He was glad it was getting decently cold outside now―meant he could get _comfy_ at night.

Yawning again, he got comfortable and closed his eyes.

Thank God he didn’t have class until 9 tomorrow morning. He felt like he was gonna sleep like a fucking _log._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long story short, my husband and I were in a Jackothy mood the other day and wanted some healthy college AU Jackothy ft. them being identical and it causing shenanigans, so we did a couple of rps with it
> 
> And then it became a full-fledged au and I decided to write it based on some of the rps\
> 
> Also I saw someone on tumblr theorizing that Jack is a Jakobs and i was like (eyes emoji) so yeah that's here
> 
> (Side note: I promise even though both of them are sort of worried about being related, they aren't, it's just one of those instances of accidentally finding someone who is almost identical to you. They aren't what is considered "true doppelgangers" because there's only a one-in-one-trillion chance of that and there can't be ANY difference between them in appearance in that case, but they're certainly alike enough that people can mistake them for each other... Much like how we mistake identical twins for each other even though they often have fairly different features.)


	2. No turning back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally got to play pre-sequel for the first time (my best friend bought me handsome collection like a year/two years ago and i couldn't ever run/download it) a few nights ago and oops all of my inspiration came back for this and now there's smut nestled inside of an 8K chapter
> 
> also was anybody gonna tell me that by "jack is less of a douche in tpl" they meant "he's shiny, dumb, easy to trick, and walks like a fucking cartoon character because he's just so bouncy" or was i just supposed to find that out by playing pre-sequel myself???

Much to Tim’s displeasure, having now met Jack face to face, he was seeing him  _ every day. _

They didn’t talk, because Tim made sure to give him a wide berth and keep his head down and his hood up, but he still  _ saw him. _ And, like, sure. It wasn’t a huge campus. It was reasonable that they’d see each other, or that they’d have a class in the same building at the same time on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but it was… Frustrating. And  _ sure, _ he could go ahead and be a nice guy and give the dude a chance, but literally the only person on the planet that Tim had ever managed to become friends with was  _ Moxxi _ which was already such an ordeal to have done that he had no idea how he’d done it in the first place. He was extremely awkward, he didn’t have what it took to actually be friends with anyone who was any higher maintenance than Moxxi was. And Moxxi was surprisingly, terrifyingly low maintenance.

Which set the bar terrifyingly low as a result.

Point being, he saw Jack around a lot more often than he wanted to.

And, admittedly, he went out of his way to avoid him.

Until one morning, when Moxxi had given him money for lunch despite his protests and he had steadfastly held onto that precious twenty dollar bill until he was in the school’s cafe and ordering his lunch. Like a good friend who was trying not to be high all the time, even though he was definitely still coming down from a high at the time. He was waiting patiently for his food, grabbing a drink to go with it, getting ready to hoard the change for another meal tomorrow, and then he heard it.

Jack’s voice.

“― for  _ real, _ Wil, get a life, my guy.” He groaned, “Get a boyfriend! A girlfriend, even, if that’s your thing. Just― Jeez, dude, I’m a  _ programmer _ and I get out more than you do.”

“I’ll take it into consideration,” Grunted a very deep-voiced person in reply, and that was probably Wil.

He suppressed the urge to curse, hiking his shoulders up and hoping he wasn’t recognizable from the back. The real issue would be taking his food and getting the hell out without being seen, though. It sounded like Jack and Wil had just come in the door. No matter which way Tim went, he’d been seen. And he wasn’t  _ about  _ to go running to hide in the bathroom or the gym like a coward. He just didn’t want to be a dick directly to Jack’s face, he wasn’t  _ scared _ of the guy.

He paid for his food, collected his change, and picked his things up.

Turning, he briefly scanned the crowd for Jack and his friend.

He felt himself turn pale when he saw them.

Sweet mother Theresa, was  _ that _ Wil? That  _ mountain _ standing next to Jack?

Jesus Harold Christ.

Barely managing not to drop his food in his surprise, Tim swiftly turned toward the front door and made a beeline for it.  _ Please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me― _

“Hey, Jack.” Said a woman’s voice, when he was still a good fifteen feet from the door, “Isn’t that your English major over there making a speedy retreat?”

“Son of a bitch,” He uttered under his breath, at about the same moment that Jack apparently saw who she meant.

“Son of a taint,” Said Jack, sounding pretty thrilled once again, “It is. Hey, Tim!”

He stopped in his tracks, gathered his courage, and looked over his shoulder.

Jack waved him over.

He swallowed, gritted his teeth, and turned to trudge over to them. “Jack,” He said, when he was there, “Hey. Dunno why I wasn’t expecting to run into you.”

“You don’t seem thrilled,” Said the woman, who he hadn’t even noticed last time, as she arched one eyebrow at him.

Before Tim could say anything to defend his honor, Jack was scoffing. “Not everyone loves me as much as you guys do, ‘Thena.” He said, and Tim blinked at the realization Jack was  _ defending him _ for not looking thrilled to see him. What? “Besides, I’m sure he’s got shit to do ― you do, right? And I’m distracting you. Sorry, just wanted to ask you how you’ve been! You ran off awful fast the first time we met.”

Tim hesitated a little, then, carefully said, “Well, I do have this huge stack of essays people are paying me to write for them, but I, uh… I’ve been doing okay. What- What about you?”

The grin Jack gave him was radiant, and Tim wished it didn’t look so attractive on him.

“Shouldn’t be much of a problem for you, from what I’ve heard,” He joked, winking, then, “And I’ve been good myself! Lots of boring coding stuff nobody ever wants to hear about, but that’s just how it is sometimes.” He laughed, shaking his head, “I’ll let ya go but- Ah, nevermind, maybe next time. You’ve got essays to write.”

He let himself laugh a little. “Yeah… Maybe next time. See you.”

“See ya!”

And Tim turned around and he left with slightly less rush than before.

And the thing was, that hadn’t been horrible. If anything it had been surprisingly pleasant. Jack was… Nicer than the stories said, although maybe Tim was a special case, and he didn’t seem to want to waste his time if he didn’t have to which was nice. But Tim’s issue laid in everything that happened  _ after _ the clear grace period he had with Jack ran out.

Because people’s patience and hospitality always ran out, eventually. Especially with Tim.

Only willing to put up with so much from the druggie English Major with the pretty face. If they didn’t get a free essay or a fuck out of it everybody lost their interest sooner or later.

Which was fine.

He just preferred to avoid it when he could.

And, also, Jack was rich, and rich folk lost interest  _ way _ faster than anyone of a similar financial situation to him. No use indulging the poor drug addict if you don’t have to. Don’t you know he’ll steal all your money and use it on drugs?

It got a bitter snort out of him as he arrived back at his dorm.

But, well.

It sort of went like that, after that ― he’d avoid Jack for weeks at a time, see him, talk to him a little and then run off again. Rinse and repeat. Until they were two months into their first semester of their second year and where did Tim run into Jack but  _ at a party. _ While he was high.

And, conveniently, while he  _ didn’t even know Jack was around. _

“An  _ English major,” _ He seethed at Moxxi, totally lost to the world except for his own annoyance with himself, “An  _ English major, _ Mox! I’m paying these fuckers a hundred and twenty  _ thousand _ dollars to― to get a four year degree in a language I  _ already speak! _ For them to tell me to go read Pride and Prejudice and then I  _ don’t read it!” _ He flopped his face into her chest, which made her snort, “Why did you let me do this, Mox? It was a shitty idea.”

“Well,” She said, sipping her drink like he  _ wasn’t _ face first in her glorious tits, “You’re minoring in Psychology, aren’t you sugar? Could always make that your major instead. Still the same amount of money, for something you might actually be able to get a job doing.”

He groaned at the very thought of joining the campus’ resident Psych Squad for real, which he thought was a pretty decent answer despite it lacking any words. Sometimes it didn’t take any real words to explain something. Fuck his teacher for suggesting that it always took words.

She patted his back in that fake-sympathetic way she usually did when he got off on a rant about his major, especially when it was almost word-for-word a John Mulaney bit, and gently pushed him out of her boobs. He allowed it, and she said something about going to get another drink, and he let her go with a grumble.

He was still sitting there just sort of internally grumbling when, of all the people, Jack sat down in the spot that Moxxi had vacated.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, pumpkin.” He greeted, grinning.

He seemed very, very sober, Tim thought.

Thankfully Tim was just high enough that he didn’t immediately feel a wave of anxiety ― weed didn’t quite fuck him up the way everything else did, and it was pretty cheap so it was easier to bum off of folks at parties. Instead he snorted, shoved his hair out of his face, and turned so he was actually looking at Jack instead of watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“I probably go to more of these things than you do,” He said, unbothered, “Free beer and free food. Can’t pass that up.”

It got a snort and a nod from Jack, “Still. Didn’t think you were the partying type. You seem pretty solitary ― and was that Miss Moxxi I saw?”

“I have exactly one person I consider a real friend and that’d be her. Known her a long time.” He paused, “But yeah, that was Mox.”

Jack seemed a little impressed, but didn’t say anything about it. “So, just here for the free food and beer?”

“And the free drugs.” Tim confirmed, and part of him hoped that was like, some kind of deal-breaker for Jack and it would drive him off.

He really didn’t want to go through the bullshit of befriending a rich guy only to get dropped the moment he was no longer a novelty, thanks.

But instead of looking revolted, Jack just nodded again, “Smells like weed in here.”

For a moment, Tim nearly thought Jack might be one of the even worse kinds of rich dudes ― the obnoxious drug user who would overpay for a bag of weed. But the way he said it nonchalantly and didn’t follow it up with talk about what kind he thought it smelled like or anything like that… That helped settle that thought.

“Yeah, host threw some my way when I got here. Think he feels bad for my broke ass sometimes.”

“You know him?” Jack raised a brow.

“Sort of.” Tim shrugged, “Mostly I bum weed off of him at parties, when I get the chance. Sometimes he hooks me up with stronger stuff when he feels particularly sorry for me.”

That got a squint from Jack. “Yeah?”

“I’m broke as fuck, dude.” He snorted, shoving his hair out of his face again, “Can’t afford drugs. Can’t even afford my legal drugs or my therapy, which is why I bum weed and H off folks. Don’t need my Xanax or therapy if I’ve got something to keep the edge off.” He snapped finger-guns at him, “Don’t need to eat as often either.”

Jack’s squint turned into raised eyebrows. “Dude.”

“Not all of us are rich, bud.”

“Nah, I know that,” Jack shook his head, “Just…  _ Dude.” _

Tim prepared to ask what he meant, and what he was doing, but Jack had already reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, plucked a sleek black card out of one of the slots, and offered it to him.

He stared at it, blinking.

Jack rolled his eyes when he didn’t move to take it and, seemingly completely unperturbed, leaned forward and dropped it down the front of Tim’s rather loose shirt.

Tim yelped ― a very undignified noise, frankly ― and jumped a little, fishing the card off his lap. “Dude, what―”

“Take it.” Was Jack’s response when he tried to hand it back, “I’m serious, go for it.”

“I― It’s  _ yours.” _

“Yeah.” He didn’t seem to understand or care what Tim’s problem with that was, continuing on to say, “And I’m handing it off to you. It’s fine.”

“I can’t just―”

“You can.”

“But―”

“Shhhh.” And he had the audacity to actually put his hand over Tim’s mouth to shut him up when he tried to protest again, which made Tim very sorely want to bite him, “Go for it. Use it for drugs, use it for food, I don’t care. I’m giving it to you, I’ll pay it off. Don’t worry about it.”

When he finally pulled his hand away and Tim could speak again, he said, “So, what, are you giving me pity money or do you want something out of this?”

Jack leveled him with an unimpressed look. “Which one will make you take it and use it?”

“... Be more jazzed about it if you let me do something in exchange. I hate pity money and I don’t need your charity.”

“I can respect that.” The man shrugged. “Figure out what you’re willing to do in exchange and we’ll start there.”

Tim stared at him a moment longer, unsure about all of this. Having some rich prick hand their credit card off to you usually meant one of two things ― a prank, or them trying to get some ass. Tim wouldn’t put it past Jack for this to be a weird prank, but despite his various misgivings about him he  _ really _ didn’t think Jack was that much of a jerk. Or, at least, he  _ hoped _ he wasn’t. Was that foolish of him? Should he be more suspicious right now? Like, he was high, but he didn’t think he was high enough for it to really be clouding his judgement. He just felt a little dizzy, if he was honest, and had for the past hour, which meant he wasn’t getting any higher and he really wasn’t all that high at all to begin with. So was he really being as suspicious as he should be?

“You know what this shit  _ usually  _ means, right?” He asked, feeling a little incredulous as he sort of waved at the card at him. And when Jack only raised a brow and cocked his head in response, he sighed heavily, “I have literally only ever seen this be a sex thing, Jack.”

Jack blinked. “I mean, I wouldn’t  _ complain _ if it went there, but that’s not what I was aiming for.”

He sighed again, but finally (while making a face) put the card into his back pocket, to Jack’s clear delight. “Then what  _ were _ you aiming for?”

“My money seeing a good use for once?” He suggested, arching his brow again, “I’ve done nothing but screw around and buy furniture since I got here, I can afford to help you buy your food or drugs or whatever.”

He still felt a little suspicious, but he’d already taken the card and Jack clearly had no intentions of taking it back from him at the current moment.

Still couldn’t help asking, a little flatly, “If you’re expecting this to turn me into your friend by the time I’m sober again, you’re going to be disappointed.”

It got a blink, then a snort and a full-fledged laugh. “Oh, God no.” Jack said, frankly looking a little relieved, “No, I  _ like _ that you don’t seem to like me. It’s lit as hell, especially since you still put up with me for more than five minutes at a time. Y’know how rare it is to get people who aren’t kissing my ass all the time cuz I’m rich?” Another snort, “You’ve repeatedly told me to my face that I’m a jerk. I respect that.”

Admittedly, Tim had sort of forgotten that he’d started doing that. It had been an off-hand, accidental comment the first time it had happened ― some reference or another to everyone still mistaking him for “some rich jerk” ― and he’d wanted to disintegrate as soon as the words had left his mouth. But Jack had laughed, totally unoffended, and continued the conversation anyway. And then Tim had kind of stopped actively trying not to call him a jerk and weirdly enough Jack had been even more excited to be around him after that.

“You’re a masochist.” Tim told him, levely.

“What, cuz I prefer to hang around people who are honest with me and call me on my shit? Or just cuz we’re not friends and I still laugh every time you call me a douchebag?”

“Yes.” He rolled his eyes, not specifying which one he was responding to, which got another laugh from Jack, “So. Listen. About the sex thing.”

Jack’s eyebrows lifted instantly. “What about the sex thing?”

Tim shrugged, “I was just gonna say I wouldn’t exactly mind, either. Wouldn’t even touch the list of the worst things I’ve done in exchange for money ― not unpleasant or embarrassing enough.”

The other seemed to consider that for a moment, then smirked a little ― it didn’t seem particularly smug, thank God, or Tim may have given in and smacked him, but it was definitely one of those unreasonably pleased sort of looks.

“I mean, if that’s what you’re thinking you want to do so that you don’t feel weird taking my money…”

Tim licked his lips. Considered it, eyes strafing away to look around. Looked back to Jack, met his mismatched eyes. “I know where the spare room is.”

Jack grinned.

And the two of them got up, Jack trailing behind Tim as he headed to the spare room. There  _ was _ a guy already necking somebody, but when the two of them looked up and saw Tim and Jack standing there, the other person quickly hopped off the desk they were sitting on and vacated the room. Tim leveled the guy, who had remained, with an unimpressed look and jerked a thumb toward the door.

Grumbling, he went without any outright complaint.

Jack chuckled as he closed and locked the door behind the guy. “Very authoritative of you. Kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help feeling sort of pleased. He pushed his hair out of his face again, turning to face both the door and Jack. He felt fairly self-conscious, all of a sudden, standing in some dude’s spare room with the guy he kept being mistaken for. Standing in his oversized jacket and loose t-shirt and holey jeans, looking at a guy wearing a jacket that looked damn-near tailor made over a nice sweater and black stone-washed jeans. People thought they looked identical and he couldn’t even wrap his brain around it.

Jack was so far out of his league.

… But here he was.

“Gettin’ nervous?” Jack asked as he stepped into his personal space.

“No.” Tim said, stubbornly, because he wasn’t, “Probably just thinking too far into things.”

“Yeah?”

A hand landed on his hip, and he sighed a little, closing his eyes. Jack’s other hand landed on his other hip. He laid his own hands on Jack’s arms and squeezed a bit. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so.”

And then he was being pulled against Jack, noses lightly brushing together before their lips met. And Tim didn’t want to sound like some sort of cliche romance protagonist, but it was… Not exactly world-shattering, didn’t exactly feel like fireworks, but it definitely made something spark. His heart rate spiked almost instantly, and he’d been sort of vaguely horny since the high had set in anyway, half-hard in his pants, but the contact had his dick giving a very interested twitch, swelling further almost as quickly as his heart rate spiked. He sighed again, moving his lips against Jack’s, hands clenching in the fabric of his jacket sleeves.

He found himself sliding his hands up a little further, shoving his fingers under the collar of the jacket and pushing it down his arms.

Jack chuckled, pulling back long enough to shrug the jacket off before he returned, slotting his lips back against Tim’s too easily, too smoothly.

Tim had to suppress a shudder, and frankly that was kind of embarrassing.

A kiss had him shuddering? How touch-starved was he?

Dumb question, because the answer was ‘extremely’, and he knew that.

Jack repeated his trick, sliding his hands under the collar of his jacket until he could knock it off his shoulders, but he didn’t let him pull back to take it off completely. In fact, he chose about that moment to lick at his bottom lip and plunge his tongue into his mouth when he opened it. Tim breathed a soft noise, hands clenching in Jack’s sleeves again.

He’d scarcely pulled back for air before Jack was walking him backwards, toward the bed, and gently pushing him down onto it. He laughed, looking up at Jack as he backed his way up the bed. And Jack grinned, waiting until he was situated there on his back, jacket still around his elbows and bunched up beneath him, and then crawling over him and kissing him into the bed.

“Damn, you’re cute,” Jack uttered, nipping at Tim’s jaw.

“Narcissist,” Tim managed to utter in response.

It got a laugh, and then Jack was sucking a hickey into his neck and Tim could only cling to him and moan softly.

“I’m less interested in you looking like me,” He mumbled into his throat, “And more interested in the freckles and the way you look when you blush like that. Very charming. Very cute.”

“Oh, fuck off,” He mumbled back.

Jack merely laughed again. Laved his tongue over the bitemark he’d left and squeezed Tim’s hips before sliding his hands up under his shirt and pushing it up. Tim let him, unable to suppress the shudder that went through him at the skin-on-skin contact, at having hands carefully curving around his ribs while Jack went to town on his neck. And thankfully Jack didn’t say anything about it ― continued working hickeys into his neck without a word and carefully dug his nails into his skin and dragged them down his ribcage.

Tim moaned, breathy and soft, and found himself tangling a hand in Jack’s hair and gently tugging.

Jack lifted his head obligingly, and Tim tugged him up into another kiss.

Somehow that inevitably led to his pants being tossed away and Jack laving kisses and bites up and down his torso, and part of Tim was just surprised that Jack wasn’t disgusted by how scrawny he was. Aside from being perhaps overly careful with his teeth over Tim’s ribs he didn’t even seem to acknowledge it.

Then Tim was fishing the lube he knew was in the bedside drawer out and handing it off to Jack, whole face red. Moaning and covering his burning face with his arms as Jack prepped him, whining at each bite to his thighs that Jack paused to give him while he was working him open. Barely even putting up a fight when Jack crawled back up and pulled his arms away from his face so he could kiss him again.

He clung to him, face only burning more when he realized Jack apparently couldn’t even be bothered to take his own pants off all the way. He kissed back with a soft whine at the realization, part of him hoping Jack would take them off before this went further and part of him hoping he wouldn’t. It was kind of demeaning, on one hand, but pretty hot on the other. He was, like, still completely in control of himself and couldn’t be bothered to take his pants off for Tim and Tim had been almost completely limp and complacent since this had started.

Then Jack was settling in between his legs and sliding into him, still kissing him, and Tim all but melted into the bed, all embarrassment or mortification forgotten in the face of the sensations. Jack sank in slowly, hands curled around his hips and squeezing surprisingly hard while he chewed on his lip and licked into his mouth.

“Alright, pumpkin?” Jack rumbled, softly, against his lips once he’d bottomed out and Tim had sighed.

“Mm…” Tim shifted a little beneath him, eyes coming half-open and looking up at Jack as he drew back to stare down at him with slightly flushed cheeks, “Yeah, I’m… I’m great.”

Jack laughed, smiling, and it was so damn charming it knocked the wind out of him, “Damn right you are,” The other said, and then he bit his lip as he carefully rocked his hips.

Tim’s eyes closed once more, a soft noise leaving him. He wanted to argue, sort of, because he knew that Jack knew he’d meant it as he  _ felt _ great and not that he  _ was _ great, but there was little point. Especially with the careful rocking of Jack’s hips turning his brain into jelly.

“... I know I already told you you were cute,” Jack said, thrusting a little deeper this time and making Tim moan for real, “But holy  _ shit.” _

“H-ush…” Tim managed, weakly, face burning all over again, throwing one of his arms back over his face.

“What if I don’t want to?” He pulled his arm away entirely too easily, grinding into him and turning him to jelly again, “What if I just wanna tell you all about how cute you look under me? Those freckles of yours really stand out once you start turning red. Brings out your eyes, too.”

He could only whine, a breathy, “Jack,” leaving him as the other began to work up to a steady pace, though not at all a quick one.

Tim hadn’t anticipated anything soft or slow, really, which just made it even more overwhelming to have Jack slowly rolling his hips into him, careful and deep and― Ugh,  _ God, _ driving him insane. If anything Tim had expected to be fucked senseless and left in the bed by himself, but Jack seemed intent on drawing this out. And he wasn’t complaining! Not at  _ all, _ it felt…

It was just surprising.

He sighed out a moan, pulling Jack into another kiss ― and the amount of those was surprising to him as well but he also wasn’t going to complain about them ― and locking a leg around his hip, rolling his hips into Jack’s next thrust. Jack made a pleased noise, one of the first noises he’d made the whole time aside from his talking, and Tim immediately wanted to hear more.

He continued to roll his hips into Jack’s thrust the best he could, biting at the other man’s lip, then at his neck when it was presented to him. Jack hissed out a soft curse, right into his ear, temporarily losing rhythm. When he resumed it was definitely quicker than it had been before, and he was sighing out sounds as often as Tim was. Good.

_ Good. _

Almost without warning, Jack gripped him tighter and began to thrust faster and harder. Tim gasped, clinging to him and trying very hard to keep time with him. But it was difficult ― Jack seemed more athletic, a little stronger, and it was all Tim could do to keep working on giving Jack enough hickeys that he wouldn’t be able to forget this happened.

Between the feelings, the high, how worked up he’d already been, and Jack panting and gasping sounds into his ear, he knew he wouldn’t last long. But it was still something of a surprise to realize, as Jack pulled back and sat up a bit so he could get a better angle, that he was very, very close. And without anything to occupy his mouth, he was embarrassed at how loud he was suddenly being.

An attempt to cover his own mouth had Jack prying his hand away and pinning it to the bed, twining their fingers together as he did so.

“Shit,” He uttered, weakly, squeezing his eyes shut.

Jack chuckled, and then he felt a hand wrap around his dick and begin to stroke, and all he could do was whine and arch his back. The fact that he’d been dripping pre onto his belly for however long this had been happening made the slide horrifically easy, which Jack took full advantage of. Tim gasped, shuddering, and twisted his free hand into the back of Jack’s sweater.

“G’on,” Jack encouraged, voice low and dripping with something Tim couldn’t place, “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

Though he’d never admit it, it was the petname that did him in.

The next thrust in, the next pump of Jack’s hand on his cock, and he was shaking apart and harshly panting his way through an orgasm, spilling into Jack’s fist and onto his own belly. Jack hissed through his teeth, working him through the orgasm, hips stuttering, and then he was pulling out.

Tim only just barely managed to peek his eyes open through the haze of orgasm and the embarrassed way he still wanted to hide away from Jack’s gaze, watching the man squeeze his own eyes shut and stroke himself where he was still knelt over him, brows furrowing in a regrettably attractive way. He hissed again, uttering several curses, and then spilled onto Tim’s stomach as well.

Tim wished that wasn’t attractive.

He closed his eyes and they both spent a few moments just trying to breathe ― Tim was half-surprised that Jack didn’t just flop over right then and there, honestly. But after a moment Jack did shift, moving away, and then he promptly laid down next to Tim. He breathed deeply, clearly just trying to catch his breath, and Tim peeked his eyes back open to look over at him.

He looked nice like that.

Ugh, why did he have to be attractive? And nicer than all the rumors said?

… Still, that was nice.

He definitely wouldn’t complain about doing that again, sober or not. Although he thought if he’d been high on anything else he may have insisted on Jack not pulling out, so it was probably for the best he’d only had a weed high.

“How ya feelin’?” Jack finally asked, when both of them were breathing normally.

“Pretty good, honestly.” He gave him a gentle nudge, “We… Might have to do that again sometime.”

Jack grinned, nudging him back. “I wouldn’t complain.” And he was sitting up and―

Shoving his hand into one of Tim’s jacket pockets. And before he could protest or ask what he was doing, he snagged his phone and sort of dangled it in front of his face.

“Unlock it for me, would ya?”

Tim squinted at him, but unlocked it while maintaining eye contact.

And Jack fiddled with it for a minute, put it back in the pocket he’d gotten it out of, and got up, pulling his pants back up over his hips and fixing them. He didn’t bother with his jacket yet, instead grabbing the box of tissues from the nightstand and offering them to Tim, who accepted them with a sigh and quickly cleaned himself up. As he sat up and started glancing around in hope of finding his pants, he noticed Jack fiddling with his own phone and grinning away at it.

He felt a little sick, because he wasn’t sure he liked the implications.

He furrowed his brows at him, when he looked over, and Jack only offered him a smile.

“What?” He asked, innocently, “I gotta get your number put in as a contact, don’t I?”

Oh.

Oh,  _ okay, _ yeah. That was fine.

“... Fair enough,” He said, out loud, getting up and grabbing his pants. He had to sit back down on the bed to get them pulled on without tripping himself, and he was sending Jack another look when the flash on Jack’s phone went off and nearly blinded him. “Whoa, what the fuck, dude?”

“Sorry, sorry,” His tone was instantly placating, “Forgot the flash was on. Just wanted a picture for ya.”

Tim squinted at him. “... I’ll send you one of the ones Mox has taken of me. They’ll look better.”

He felt a little vain saying it, but Jack nodded and looked a little pleased. “Sure, works for me. The lighting in here’s shit anyway.”

He finished pulling his pants on, fishing his own phone out of his jacket again when he was situated. “I take it you put your number in my phone?”

“Yep!” He replied cheerily, “Made the contact name ‘Rich Prick’ and everything.”

He snorted when, entering his text history, he found that to be true. “I thought you were kidding, honestly.”

“Nah, way funnier to tell the truth on that one.”

He texted Moxxi asking for one of her hundreds of random candid pictures of him and not explaining why he’d wanted it when she inevitably asked, forwarding it to Jack without much thought. At least she’d sent a good one. He almost thought he looked charming in it, frankly ― smiling, chin propped up in his palm, caught mid-word and caught in a very well-placed spot of sunlight that really highlighted his freckles. He actually looked soft, and like he’d slept and ate recently. That was rare.

He didn’t bother asking if Jack liked the picture ― he didn’t have to, because the look on Jack’s face when he opened the message made the answer very clear. It was a yes, and Tim felt a little flattered, considering the fact that even if he personally liked the picture, he still kind of looked like a hobo in it. Having Jack clearly actually, genuinely like the picture just made him feel… Kind of warm.

“I’ll send you the account info for the card when I get back to my apartment,” Jack said, still smiling at his phone, but looked up to add, “Stay safe, Timmy.”

He blinked, “Er. I’ll try. You too?”

Jack sent him a radiant smile, then grabbed his jacket, headed for the door, and promptly disappeared out of it. And Tim stayed there a moment, letting the situation sink in. He dug the card back out of his back pocket, almost amazed it was still there if he was honest, and stared at it. He dared flip it over, to see if maybe the card itself had been the prank, but found nothing out of place.

‘Jonathan Jakobs’, it said, closely followed by the expiration date and security code.

For a second he wondered if it wasn’t really Jack’s card, given the ‘Jonathan’, only to be reminded ‘Jack’ was a common nickname for ‘John’, and credit card companies probably expected you to put your actual legal name on them instead of any nicknames.

He took a deep breath, put the card back in his pocket, got up, and left the bedroom.

He found Moxxi back where she’d been before all that, and flopped back into the seat next to her with no intentions of explaining what had happened. He didn’t want to admit, really, that her suggestion to him from all those months ago had ended up happening almost totally unintentionally on his part. Still, she eyed him for a long moment before reaching over and carefully running her fingers through his hair.

“What?” He asked, given the unsure look on her face.

“You’ve got sex hair, Timmy.” She said, “Are you okay?”

He blinked. Stifled a laugh. “Oh, yeah, Mox, I’m good. I’m good, promise.”

She still seemed unsure.

He hesitated, then, laughing, motioned her closer.

“What did you do?” She asked, hushed, under the music now.

“Jack.” He answered, very succinctly, and watched her eyes go wide and her mouth drop open. He cast a glance around, ensuring Jack was not around and no one else was looking his way, then plucked the card out of his pocket and showed it to her, “I… May have taken your suggestion.”

“Timmy!” She said, scandalized but delighted as she lightly swatted his leg.

“He just handed the card to me,” Tim sighed, still grinning because gossiping with Moxxi was fun anyway, “He was going to let me take it anyway but, y’know. I felt weird just taking his money.”

“So you fucked him.” At his nod she giggled, still scandalized and delighted in equal measures, “Oh, my baby boy’s growing up.”

He put the card away before anyone else could catch sight of it, and he spent the rest of the party just gossiping with Moxxi.

When he arrived home, the sun was starting to come up and he’d nearly forgotten the card. But he was reminded of it when he opened his fridge and pulled out his last bottle of water, gazing into the scarily clean, white depths of the fridge. The whole time he’d been here it had only seen use for leftovers, bottles of water, and exactly one gallon of milk way back at the beginning after he’d finished all those essays for people and made enough money to buy groceries.

He had a can of beans, otherwise, he already knew.

And it drew his mind to the card burning a hole in his back pocket.

He chewed his lip as he withdrew it, slowly closing the fridge. He stared at it for a long moment, took a breath, and sat down on the couch with it and his bottle of water. Withdrew his phone and unlocked it, seeing a message from Jack waiting for him ― the account information, as promised.

Username: handsomejackass

Password: angelj716

Tim snorted a little at the username, wondering if he’d come up with it on his own or if someone else (maybe Athena or Wilhelm) had called him that enough times that it stuck. But, since he wasn’t sure of the credit limit on the card and he couldn’t really use it without anxiety until he did…

He opened the website, typed in the information, and was greeted with a ‘Welcome, Jonathan!’ and a credit limit starting with 5 and followed by several more zeroes than he’d expected.

His mouth went dry, but at least he knew a grocery store visit wouldn’t really put a dent in it.

He swallowed and checked to see when the nearest supermarket opened. It was time to stock his cabinets, he guessed.

* * *

Jack hadn’t expected to find Tim at a party that had smelled like weed and sex from the moment he’d stepped in the front door ― or at a party at all, for that matter, because really in the year he’d known him he’d never once seen Tim even talk to another person for more than five minutes. He’d watched Tim hike up his shoulders and dodge around groups of people with his head down more times than he could count.

So finding him, face first in Miss Moxxi’s tits, bitching about his major and asking why she’d let him pick it, was surprising enough without even the addition of Moxxi.

And when Moxxi left for whatever reason, Jack decided to take the chance of sitting down where she’d been and starting up a conversation… Which Tim made no attempts to get out of and didn’t even get awkward about. Really he seemed kind of at home ― finding out he was probably high definitely helped explain that, and the addition of him having a Xanax prescription he couldn’t afford explained the usual reactions. And then the eating thing...

So he didn’t really think before he pulled out his wallet and one of his cards and handed it off to Tim.

He was a little surprised by Tim’s resistance to being given the item, but they worked it out after a moment.

Having Tim so receptive to his touch, so open and willing and flushed ― it was, uh… Well, it was something, that was for sure. Something Jack wanted to have again. Hopefully soon.

The moment he’d gotten his mouth on Tim’s all thought of them looking alike had fled him in favor of thinking about just. Tim.

He was so cute, very soft… But very thin, too, and Jack had to admit it concerned him a little. His ribs were more prominent than they should be ― not enough to be outright unhealthy, but enough to be worrisome. Still, talking about it would get him nowhere, and he’d given Tim his card for a reason. Hopefully he’d use it for food rather than drugs, but no matter what he used it for, it didn’t matter.

Jack would pay for it anyway, because it was at least a use for his money that didn’t involve furniture or his own groceries.

Not to mention, Tim wasn’t after his money… Clearly. If he was he’d have taken the card from the get-go and Jack would have known not to expect much.

Still, watching his face turn red, watching his chest heave as he panted and sighed out little whines and moans… Definitely worth it. And for a guy who didn’t seem to like him very much, Tim was very amenable to kisses and being treated gently. Really he seemed kind of overwhelmed by it, but not opposed. And then he was pulling Jack into a kiss, himself, and Jack was delighted.

Each time he tried to cover his face or muffle himself Jack felt a spike of fondness in his chest.

Along with spikes of arousal, but, you know. Those happened when you were fucking somebody. Especially somebody as cute as Tim happened to be.

He made the cutest face when he came, brows furrowed, mouth open ― Jack barely had the presence of mind to pull out.

They laid there for a moment or two when they were done, breathing, and he couldn’t help asking how Tim was feeling when both of them had steadied.

“Pretty good, honestly.” And Tim’s lips were pulling upwards a little as he nudged him gently, “We… Might have to do that again sometime.”

Jack felt himself grin. Hell yeah. Score one for Jack, you know? He hadn’t been looking for sex out of this, that hadn’t been a lie, but getting sex out of it was something he woudln’t complain about. Casual sex was great, but he really didn’t have anybody to  _ have _ casual sex with anymore. Wil wasn’t all that interested (although it had happened once or twice since starting college) and Athena was  _ taken _ and also a  _ lesbian. _ And they were, like, the only people he still talked to on a semi-frequent basis, other than Angel’s mom. So adding Tim, who was very cute and who didn’t hesitate to call him on his shit (even if he did seem to internally wince every time he did it) to the equation was nice, whether they were friends or not.

“I wouldn’t complain,” He decided to say, as he sat up.

And, since he’d neglected to ask for Tim’s number or offer his own at any point before this, and he’d need to give Tim the login information for the card account if he had any real hope of Tim actually  _ using _ it, he leaned over him and plucked his phone from the pocket of his jacket that looked like it probably had something in it. He was kind of smug to discover he’d been right on the first try.

He held it up in front of Tim’s face. “Unlock it for me, would ya?”

Tim gave him a look, but typed in his passcode without even looking and didn’t protest Jack immediately turning the screen to himself and opening his contacts. He quickly inserted his own number and saved it under the name ‘Rich Prick’ because he honestly thought Tim would get a kick out of that when he saw it, leaving the contact picture empty because he at least had enough respect not to go digging through Tim’s pictures.

He send a message off to himself ― a simple ‘bitch’. Nothing fancy.

Then he locked the phone and put it back in the pocket he’d gotten it out of.

Tim looked a little exasperated, but not necessarily upset with him, as he got up and fixed himself and Tim remained on the bed. He snatched up a box of tissues and handed them off to Tim, who wiped the look off of his face as he accepted the box with a sigh. He cleaned himself up while Jack pulled his own phone out. Okay, open the mystery number’s text, save the number…

He looked up to see Tim furrowing his brows at him, a little distrustful, and Jack internally winced. Yeah, being on his phone immediately after having sex with a dude was probably not a good look for him. “What?” He asked, innocently, “I gotta get your number put in as a contact, don’t I?”

The suspicious look cracked, then crumpled off of Tim’s face. “Fair enough.”

He got up to grab his pants, lightly limping as he did so, and had to sit back down on the edge of the bed to put them on. He looked… Pretty charming like that, if Jack was honest. Cheeks still red, hair a couple degrees beyond tousled, lips pulled into almost a frown ― but not quite. Jack bit his own lip and opened his camera app, not thinking before he snapped a picture.

The flash nearly blinded him, so he could only imagine how Tim’s poor eyes felt.

“Whoa, what the fuck, dude?” Tim asked, just this side of genuinely angry.

“Sorry,” He said immediately, “Sorry, forgot the flash was on. Just wanted a picture for ya.”

It got him a squint, but some of the annoyance did seem to fade off. Then, to his surprise, Tim said, “I’ll send you one of the ones Mox has taken of me. They’ll look better.”

And, on the one hand, damn. What an insult to his photo-taking abilities ― although it was probably more a jab at Tim himself, at the moment. He must have thought he looked awful, post-sex.

So Jack nodded, smiling a little at the thought of being given a picture someone Tim knew closely had taken of him. “Sure, works for me,” He said, “The lighting in here’s shit anyway.”

Tim resumed his business, drawing his phone out as he asked if Jack had put his own number in. His brows raised when Jack told him what he’d saved his number under the name of, but it didn’t take very long for him to snort, face crumpling into amusement. Jack really liked seeing him smile.

“I thought you were kidding, honestly,” Tim commented.

“Nah,” Jack chuckled, “Way funnier to tell the truth on that one.”

The way Tim’s lips curled up a little more told him he agreed. A couple of moments later, his phone went off in his hand and ― oh.  _ Oh. _

Yeah. That looked way better than the picture he’d taken, and not just because of the lighting.

Tim, in the picture, was looking somewhere off-frame, smiling and caught mid-word. His hair was tousled, eyes soft and catching the light of the sun. The sun highlighted the freckles spattered across the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones, and there was a light flush dusting his cheeks too ― either from the sun or the subject of the conversation. His chin was pillowed in one of his palms, other hand making a vague gesture. He looked… Totally at ease. Happy, well-rested.

And Jack sort of felt like he’d been punched in the gut, considering the force of the affection that lanced through him.

Oof,  _ God _ he had it bad already.

After a moment of staring at the picture, he set it as Tim’s contact picture. And it was about that moment that he realized he was smiling at his phone like a dumbass, so he tried to shake it off, but… Eh.

“I’ll send you the account info for the card when I get back to my apartment,” He promised, only managing to tear his eyes away and make eye contact in order to tack on, “Stay safe, Timmy.”

Tim looked taken off guard by the addendum, if a little charmed. “Er.” He said, weakly, “I’ll try. You too?”

Jack couldn’t help grinning in response as he grabbed his jacket and left the bedroom.

He made his way back to Athena and her girlfriend without much issue, glad they’d grabbed a spot where he could see where Moxxi was and would probably be able to see Tim when he eventually emerged from the room.

He got sucked into a conversation with the two women fairly quickly, but when he finally looked back over toward Moxxi, Tim was there and the two of them were talking again. Tim definitely seemed in a better mood this time, a permanent flush across his cheekbones and a smile curving his lips.

Jack took a breath, ignored the looks he was getting from Janey and Athena, and dug his phone out, giving into the urge he’d been denying since he’d finished setting Tim’s contact photo.

He made it his background.

God he had it bad. Shit.

When he arrived home at last, a couple of hours of talking with Janey and Athena and watching Tim like a stalker later, he fired off a text with the login information to Tim and flopped into bed still dressed.

He woke to a $300 charge on the card from the local supermarket and a text from Tim.

_ Timtam: you come up with the ‘handsome jackass’ thing yourself or did somebody call you that enough times that it stuck _

He laughed, half-relieved to see Tim had wasted no time buying groceries (hopefully they were groceries, but he’d already said he didn’t care what Tim bought) and half-amused by the reaction.

_ J: it’s a high school thing _

_ J: it was supposed to be an insult but they should have known when they added ‘handsome’ to it i was going to own it _

He didn’t get an immediate response from Tim, but he wasn’t surprised.

He was just sort of smiling at his phone like an idiot anyway.

Ugh.


End file.
